


Unions and Incantations

by John__Doe



Series: Endless AUs for Green Queens [1]
Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chef Aneela, Critic Delle, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Love, Nigerian/Norwegian Fusion, Recreational Drug Use, chef!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John__Doe/pseuds/John__Doe
Summary: Aneela has plans.To establish her restaurant in the intense buzz of New York, and ferociously face the threats which arise in the process. Namely one Delle Seyah Kendry, one of the harshest critics within the State.OR!In which Aneela opens a restaurant, and Delle is a critic who might tear the place apart.
Relationships: Aneela/Delle Seyah Kendry, Dutch | Yalena Yardeen/Brynn, Khlyen/Yalena Kin Rit
Series: Endless AUs for Green Queens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975459
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Unions and Incantations

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, man! This took longer than I planned, and grew far larger than expected, but I hope anyone reading this will enjoy it!
> 
> A special thanks to YOLO1882 who provided lots of criticism along the development of this!

i.

Aneela worked hard to keep her restaurant refined without pushing sharply into conceitedness. She expertly kept her interior designers from crossing  _ that _ thin line. The critics would not spare her so, if the place were a gaudy, pretentious mess.

It had a plain pastel color scheme, with smooth alabaster and rose panelling, thin paper walls with intricately designed illustrations, subtle gold leaf accents, and soft, yet strategic lighting design. These lights hung low above the table with milky glass to evenly disperse light. The tables started from supporting two near the left-most side, and gradually increased to support parties of up to dozen. This was also strategically placed to give larger parties an eyeful of the bustling kitchen, and make them hungrier. The tables were decorated with cozy white tablecloths, folded napkins, custom machined silverware with their emblem imprinted at the end, and glass flutes that paired perfectly with many vinous beverages.

She stood proudly, overlooking the final renovations herself, and felt a bubbling sense of accomplishment as the place changed from concept to reality. With the custom renovations, repairs, and overall management of the buildings internal structure—from electrical cables to studs to plumbing—it was projected to have a value of nearly five million dollars.  _ That _ news in particular made her happy.

She entitled her restaurant Kin Rit. A name to stand for all time. Such a title was engraved on a large, opalescent sign in professional black cursive.

Aneela remembered clearly the long midnight conversations with her father, sipping cool snifters filled with rich, bister cognac, and usually revolved around building such a place. She hoped he was in high spirits for what she accomplished. She didn't know what was beyond the grave—if he was able to see how  _ far _ she'd gotten—but she hoped he could.

Spending time imagining how he could either congratulate or dismiss her was something she thought about often, although she'd  _ never _ admit to such apprehensions. Such internal conversations took one of those two directions, usually depending on her mood—depressive feelings brought out negative responses, while lighthearted feelings brought out positive responses.

She wasn't sure if she'd  _ ever _ finish grieving. That terrified her.

But now wasn't the time to think about the heavy things. She willed herself to focus on the present— _ pleasant _ —moment, not reminiscing deep into the past and wishing for impossible futures. Her multi-million dollar restaurant was nearly ready for operation, and she was going to walk through it. To know every feature by heart.

She recalled the mediocre state of the building the year previous, and now it was practically unrecognizable.

Aneela gazed at the kitchen, with its sparkling burners, long steel workspaces, industrial ovens, grandiose refrigerators, and racks of cookware at the ready. There was a tap on her shoulder, and it shocked her out of her less than pleasant thoughts. It had been Brynn, the restaurant's maître d'hôtel, who had done so.

"What do you think, Ma'am? Itching to get into the new kitchen?" She asked, and gave her boss a sheepish smile.

"I think…" she trailed off a moment, before quickly regaining her scattered thoughts, "I think it's perfect. I can't wait to get in there and cook. Just don't scare me like that again, because you know  _ I _ sign your paychecks."

"Then you shouldn't stare wistfully into space. Don't become lost in that  _ grand _ mind of yours," Brynn parried.

"Quite a mouth you've got there, I ought to have you retrained," Aneela playfully nudged her.

Brynn flashed her boss a slightly more confident smile, and before replying, "It's only selective disobedience. For you."

Aneela quickly noticed the sudden shift in her body language, what she usually did when she thought of  _ something _ which made her uncomfortable, and would bubble inside guiltily until she gave in or forced it down. So, she watched her curiously, knowing the lighthearted, teasing portion of their conversation was ending. There are rough waters ahead.

"Are… are you okay?" She asked, her voice gentle and possessed  _ real _ concern. That question wasn't completely unexpected, but not what she thought Brynn would ask first off.

Aneela's first instinct was to lie. It was intensely appealing—she could say  _ Yes, I'm okay _ with a small smile and Brynn would return that smile and give a nod, and there would be a warmth glistening in the young woman's eye. But… she hesitated. Lying to  _ Brynn _ of all people made her stomach twist the wrong way. Besides, her hesitation cost her the chance of lying, and she figured she might as well give some truth.

"I… don't know," she answered after a few moments. Not a complete truth, but not a lie. God, she was itching for a cigarette right about now.

Brynn never knew Khlyen beyond acquaintance nor much of his relationship with Aneela, so the extent of the turmoil within her was still masked. So the young woman nodded, and said, "For what it's worth,  _ I'm  _ proud of you, Ma'am. I know you're my employer, but… you're also my friend—one of my  _ best _ friends—and seeing you do  _ all _ of this… Fueling it with your entrepreneurial energy… it's  _ amazing _ ."

Aneela smiled, this time it being a nearly involuntary action instead of forced, and she wanted it to be clear of her importance, "Your opinion is extraordinarily valuable, and I have put my trust in you. Otherwise you would not be my maître d'!"

Brynn flushed, gave her another smile, and quietly left Aneela's side. She returned to her station—she  _ was  _ on the clock afterall.

Aneela had known Brynn for many years. Since the kid had turned  _ sixteen _ ! She was twenty-two now, and worked hard despite her playfulness. Although it was mostly because she was comfortable around Aneela. They were practically sisters, after all. Aneela was immensely proud of her waitstaff, and how Brynn had dedicated years into the social craft.

She decided to watch the young woman for a moment. Confidence in her stride, a professional, reserved smile, and strong posture as she easily fell into her element, and addressed the five waiters and five waitresses. Brynn glanced over to her a few times, and Aneela hoped she hadn't caused her much anxiety, so she provided her a reassuring smile. Aneela's heart had been touched by Brynn's words, and she felt the well of her emotions quiver. But now wasn't the time for that, there were other, far more important tasks at hand.

ii.

Aneela quickly turned to the foreman— _ one _ Mr. Gander—and asked, "Has everything been set up and finalized? Gas? Water? Plumbing?" Getting right down to business seemed the best way to lead conversation with less than savory individuals. She did it more for herself than others—minimizing the pain of conversation with them altogether.

"Yes," he responded curtly, his lips in an indifferent line, and his voice carried little emotion, "The gas lines were turned on three days ago, water was turned on alongside the septic systems two weeks ago, and electricity a little over four weeks ago."

"Have the air conditioning systems been set up yet?" Of course, that was a less important facet of her restaurant operation, but it's an important part of guest comfort.

"Yes, it was installed two days ago and tested fine."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"At the moment everything seems to be running smoothly, I'll let you know if we have any issues or setbacks," Gander took the pencil off his ear and wrote something down on his clipboard as he went to monitor the progress of the restaurant.

The place was practically ready to open, and only a few things needed to be completed. The menu had been a pesky task indeed! Aneela wanted the perfect representation of her restaurant in the menu, not any old smattering of seemingly random dishes. There was a delicate balance here which needed the utmost precision. The scheduled opening night was looming closer, and while everything appeared to be in perfect sync, worry still creeped into her heart.

Gander didn't make her feel much better either, but the knowledge she could fire him on a whim and prevent him from  _ ever _ getting another job as long as he lived quelled most of that worry. It would be  _ expensive _ , but that was the cost of sweet, sweet revenge. But the place looked wonderful, and she doubted there would be much to worry about, considering they were in the last stage of finalization.

The place had been cleaned two thousand times, and she knew it had been done properly because she spent an hour looking for any lazily cut corner, and turned up empty handed. Everything really was coming together, and the thought it may go off without a single hitch was still setting in. Then again, that worry, paranoia, and borderline obsessive-compulsiveness meant this place was going to be perfect.

Currently, she sat at the sleek, sexy bar—which was beautifully lit up with bright LED strips—and went over the menus. She still had balancing issues with the pricing and style. She wasn't sure if she wanted the plain white slab with gorgeous black text—and the words  _ Kin Rit _ clearly printed in that same professional cursive—or if she wanted a laminated menu instead.

The food itself was also up for debate, and she was still trying to find a good balance of all foods. With a flavorful mixture of traditional Nigerian and Norwegian cuisine, she wanted it to be perfect. For drinks, she'd long debated good pairings of alcohol with different dishes. Her favorite was a rich green tea with a splash of vodka.

A dish she remembered fondly as a child—from the many times her mother had requested traditional meals—was a rich, egusi soup. Made from egusi and onion paste, fish, and an assortment of bitter leaves. She loved the art of cooking, even though her profession was radically different and she often had chefs for such tasks. Nonetheless, it had inspired Aneela to enter such a field.

Her father also loved traditional foods from his homeland, so Norwegian cuisine as often requested. Khlyen had asked for Kjøttkaker a few times for them to try, served with hearty potatoes, steamed carrots, and slathered in a delicious brown sauce. It disappeared rather quickly during dinner times of old.

There were also plenty of other menu items to go over. They had gravlaks; tørrfisk; plantain bean pottage; sodd; roasted porks; moin moin; rakfisk; brunost and bread; multekrem; shuku shuku; serinakaker; and the list goes on. Too many meals and not enough space on their menu.

Drinks were another matter entirely. Aneela pondered using akvavit, mead, and vodka. Burukutu wouldn't be a bad addition either. There was also blackberry wine and fruit beers. But those were only the alcoholic ones.

Non-alcoholic drinks were just as important. Water was plentifully available, as well as carbonated beverages from  _ Coca-Cola _ to  _ Polar Seltzer _ , mocktails, and fruit juices. 

Prices also had to be balanced to the current price of the ingredients, employment, rent, utilities, insurance, and anything remaining would be profits. High quality, organic ingredients weren't terribly expensive nor hard to get their hands on, but all other services were quite expensive, which means the margin of profit was going to be  _ very _ slim, if not achieving normal profit instead. The restaurant had a maximum patron count of 300, so prices also had to account for how many people they'd be serving regularly.

Besides, Aneela's bank account may have held seven digits, but a sizable portion has been eaten up by rent, employment, construction costs, taxes, insurance, and so on. She couldn't continue funding the restaurant forever, and with her current funds, she could keep it a float for another year, before she would be forced to file for bankruptcy protections.

Thus, the restaurant  _ needed _ favorable press, otherwise it would be the blow which would destroy their fragile balance.

iii.

Aneela brought in the cooking staff the next day to go over menu item preparation, approximate cooking times, and to ensure a timely speed.

Brynn had strong command over the waitstaff, and tables were set up with fake patrons for their test runs. The tables had small devices that would play each guests order vocally, and the ambient sound of chatter, walking, eating, and clatter of wares would be continuous.

They had six days and eight hours until opening night, and it  _ would _ be perfect. Aneela couldn't have anything less.

She wore her chef's attire with a cavalier, self-assured attitude. If her outward appearance was them having  _ already _ succeeded, it would boost their confidence. The attire itself was a sharp charcoal black, and had dark green accents along the buttons and cuffs. On the collar and cuffs were embroidered with  _ Kin Rit _ emblems.

Her head chef Fancy Lee wore an identical set, as well as the five other chefs, three cooks, and busboys.

Brynn wore her head waitstaff—maître d'hôtel—uniform: sharp black base, with a short white tie, a skirt, and low, shiny pumps. The rest of the staff wore matching black ties. She addressed them curtly, as they prepared to test their skill before opening night. The sound system bellowed out a quick succession of three beeps, and a deep horn, alerting them to the start.

The kitchen staff had already prepared for the service in advance, as they would on opening night, so meals would come together easily. The assembly was completely ready to go, they just needed the orders to come in.

The waiters and waitresses quickly went at each set of tables and got the orders as quickly as possible. Pressing down on the large buttons—as comically large as a  _ Staples  _ button—and listened attentively to the orders. Using the abbreviated names of each menu item saved them nearly fifteen minutes over the four hour service. Each order made its way to the long row signifying each order, and were quickly started by the team of chefs.

Fancy directed each group, their team of sixteen split into four groups for different meals and portions of the service, nearly flawlessly.  _ He never let emotion or pressure break him _ , Aneela noted, and found she had picked him well for the job at hand. Good direction for the team of chefs was paramount to their success, and if he could not channel their skills and time efficiently, it would lead to a disastrous opening night.

The waitstaff efficiently split the dining area into sections for which they would each interact and collect orders, and hit tables as fast as they could manage. While it started out rough, getting used to their sections and focusing on orders without waves of ambient noise and chatter clambering about.

Soon enough, meals were already beginning to leave the kitchen as more orders poured in, and although they were a bit slow to start, and had many orders build up, they easily fell into a flow and began to push them out as fast as they came in.

Aneela noticed these rough starts but was proud of her team’s quick acclimation and push to make this dream come true. The dining room filled with delicious aromas, and the kitchen staff pushed on like a well oiled machine. Heat poured from the kitchen, golden light filled all the stainless steel reflections, and sweat across all their brows—the air conditioned struggled to tame the constant heat of the ovens—but there was little complaint. Water bottles were passed around and performance never waivered.

Food was carried out to each of the tables with lightning quick speed and only one slight mix-up occurred—but it was their  _ first  _ shot and all things considered, it turned out pretty well. They had started four hours and fifty-five minutes ago, and now was their time to break. The entire staff got to try the many menu items that the chefs had toiled over, and Aneela felt driven to say something illuminating to them.

She had been pleased with their work. While it wasn’t perfect—although with these training exercises, opening night would be—she held faith they would push themselves far harder when the time came. They had to.

Thus, it felt appropriate to say something kind, to show her support vocally, and to make them feel at ease around her. She didn’t want to become a shadow which caused nothing positive to her team. Humans we’re—unfortunately—more complicated than gears in a machine. They could be spooked, make errors, and have ulterior motives. She needed to put their fears at bay and preserve support while gaining even more.

“I…” the pause is unintentional, she knows, but she needs a moment to think of her words while the gaze of two dozen people are solely trained on her, “I wanted to thank you all. For putting in the effort today, helping me work toward this dream, and I believe that this will become a successful reality. Opening night will be hard, there will be unexpected things, things may go wrong, accidents may happen… but I strongly believe if we continue to put that hard work and strength straight through opening night, we will come out flourishing.

“I’m proud of where we’ve gotten to in such a short timeframe, but over the past year we’ve built everything up. Idea materialized into reality. The building may be beautiful, everything I had hoped before it had become real, but the core of the machine is _ you _ . Without harmony, things will fall into disarray, but here tonight you’ve proven yourselves _ more  _ than capable for the challenges of opening night.

“I’m excited for the possibilities the future possesses, and we  _ shall _ get there.” Ending off her praise, she felt satisfied by their looks of approval. Her words, she felt, had been a bit clumsy, but they seemed to be appreciative of it nonetheless. Soon enough, their voices died down, and people prepared the end of the work day. Dishes and cookware were cleaned in their industrial dishwashers, the entire kitchen was completely spotless, as well as the dining room.

Most of their employees had left within the hour; all but Brynn. The kitchen was shut down, and dark—the dining room was dimmed, and the bar provided most of the light for reading. Aneela was browsing the reservations list with Brynn, who was absentmindedly cleaning the bar. They had celebrated their success with some alcohol, and some had spilled onto the bar.

“Hmm,” Aneela hummed, out of the blue, “Delle Seyah Kendry has a reservation for opening night.”

“ _ Delle Seyah Kendry _ !?” Brynn squeaked!

“I’ve heard she has  _ quite  _ the reputation,” Aneela responded nonchalantly, and Brynn was almost irritated at her antics.

“You know she slaughters restaurants right?” Brynn questioned, “Cold blooded, calculated  _ murder _ .”

“You don’t have to be melodramatic, Brynn.”

“I’m not!” she defended, “I’m being serious, I’ve read her articles. She picks apart  _ everything _ . Good places have crashed and burned because of her reviews. She’s been rated one of the harshest critics in New York for  _ God’s Sake _ !”

“Then we’ll have to deal with it,” Aneela figured.

“Easier said than done,” Brynn replied, “Denying her reservation because of her work and personality seems like a _ nuclear level  _ disaster. We can’t give her any ammunition.”

“Then perhaps… we deal with her at the restaurant. On opening night. Scout her out, get some information, and feed her the best we’ve got.” She was right, there wasn’t much they  _ could _ do about it, but present their best possible face and hope she  _ doesn’t _ annihilate them. While she held the outward appearance of serenity, she had a tumultuous nervousness and rage within her. She went to the empty roof and smoked. The day's tension released from her shoulders, and she went home.

Her night would be filled with a restless not-quite-sleep.

iv.

Her loft was soon filled with the distinct aroma of intense cooking. Her mother, Yalena, suggested a get-together of sorts before her big opening night. Dutch and Brynn would also be there, because they were relentless and impossible to deny.  _ Of course _ , they were family after all.

These dinners were semi-regular, and Aneela found herself to be enjoying them the more she participated. Cooking for them was always a treat, too. It was oddly therapeutic, transitioning from the mindset of high end restaurants—considering she’d worked for some, especially while she was taking college courses—but to more relaxed cooking. Sometimes simplicity had more elegance.

Besides, her family didn’t care nearly as much as critics and chefs about the plating, cooking style, or wine pairings of the food. Well, perhaps the last  _ was _ important. Her mother had brought a bottle of rich white wine, so she prepared a seafood dish to pair with it. Quickly butterflying the prawns, she tossed them into the pot to boil. Next was slicing cod, and cooking them in a pan with red peppers, onions, tomatoes, and green peas. Rice was cooked with garlic until deliciously tender. While it was not her first tango with  _ paella _ , it had been quite a few years since she’d made such a dish.

The smell of saffron and seafood filled the air—the aroma was intoxicating, and both Dutch and Brynn knew Delle Seyah Kendry wouldn’t stand a chance against food like this.  _ Nobody  _ could stand against such mouth watering wonder. But, Dutch was in law enforcement, so taking out this  _ Delle Seyah Kendry _ person wouldn’t be terribly difficult to cover up.

While Aneela and Yalena chattered away in the kitchen, Brynn and Dutch snuck off to the dining room for both a moment of privacy and to set the table. The table was intimately small, with a plain tablecloth over the polished oak build, and immaculately clean. They’d take one side, while Aneela and Yalena would take the other.

Dutch wrapped her arms tightly around Brynn’s shoulders, while her partners fell to either side of her hips. Dutch kissed her eagerly, and crooned in satisfaction. She found Brynn’s lips to be so soft, and each kiss sent shivers down her spine.

They gazed at each other for a moment, before Brynn spoke in a gentle whisper, “Worried about Aneela?”

Dutch frowned, but still nodded, “Yeah, I am. I know she’s an adult and can deal with  _ everything that _ comes her way, she’s strong like that, but I just want her opening night to go well. I don’t like that critic.”

Brynn hummed in agreement, “I don’t either. I worry she’ll try and destroy  _ Kin Rit _ … I don’t even want to think about what that would do to her.”

“Not only that, but  _ you _ too,” Dutch knew the restaurant was Aneela’s dream, but it would have a huge impact on the working force within it too, and that meant Brynn, “You could lose your job before the restaurant even opens.”

“I know,” Brynn had been senselessly worried about it since Aneela had mentioned Delle Seyah was going to be there. She hugged her partner tightly, and took a deep breath. Dutch was to Brynn as a grounded pole was to lightning. It kept her  _ strong _ .

Aneela, glancing out of the corner of her eye and focusing her hearing, could just barely make out their conversation. She was touched by their worry for her, but a little indignant they thought she couldn’t handle the worst. If  _ Kin Rit _ did crumble, she didn’t think it would break her, but be a momentary setback to her goals. Rebuilding was always an option, even if it wouldn't be  _ Kin Rit _ as she hoped.  _ Kin Rit _ was to be her magnum opus of sorts, even if it is her first attempt as such a place. A feeling of conflict rose in her chest; maybe she should have set her goals lower for her first project. Everything seemed to coalesce before her so  _ easily _ , but the knowledge it was a fragile presence unnerved her.

Yalena smiled at her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and spoke softly, “This looks great, you’ve always been a fantastic cook.”

“Well…” Aneela thought about her first cooking  _ escapade _ as a child, “Not  _ always _ .”

“Ah, nearly slipped my mind—” perhaps Aneela shouldn’t have mentioned it! “—I remember our chef's beet red face when he found pans covered with black burned food, bellowing smoke and flames… He was furious!”

Aneela flushed as she recalled those vague memories with both happiness and disdain. She had been banned from their kitchen for three years, but her love for cooking grew ever more. “ _ Yeah _ ...” she chuckled in a nervous fashion, “but I  _ did _ get better.”

“And now my daughter is opening a chic new fusion restaurant in New York City! I couldn’t be more proud!” Yalena looked suddenly deep in thought, and slipped in a “Still no grandchildren though!”

Aneela rolled her eyes in a  _ very _ exaggerated manner and replied, “Not exactly my top priority at the moment. More so damage control so my entire restaurant doesn’t burst into flames and crash down on top of me.”

She almost regretted bringing the mood down, and she didn’t want to think such negative thoughts, but they had a way of taking up much of her processing power anyway. Her mind constantly occupied that which hse could not change, but she wouldn’t trade that mind for any resource in the world.

“Of course, Dear, but you deserve someone who will love and cherish you!” her mother wasn’t  _ wrong _ , Aneela had just never put much thought into her romantic life. It wasn’t something she thought was important; that there  _ wasn’t  _ a gaping hole in her heart.

“Maybe, when things have settled down,” she tries to give her mother a decent answer, but she doesn’t look satisfied in the slightest.

“With you? Things will never  _ settle down _ ,” Yalena said with care, but also with authority. Perhaps her life  _ would _ be too congested to be able to give a partner her full attention. But perhaps it was her mother's way of saying to make time and space for someone anyway, that her life would always be a torrential storm. Let the cards fall as they may. Still, Yalena’s words, while coming from a place of love and care, still confounded her.

“I guess...” and she let the conversation die down, since her paella was nearly finished cooking. These types of conversations were difficult. "Come, let's eat. I, for one, am starving."

"Me too," Yalena said with a smile, and helped Aneela give out scoops of the paella and rice.

"Smells delicious!" Brynn said with a gleaming smile. She'd always been an adamant supporter of Aneela's cooking, and it touched her heart.

"It does! I can't wait to dig in," Dutch replied as she eyed the goods lustfully. Brynn noticed her…  _ bedroom eyes _ , so to speak, and had to suppress a giggle.  _ Of course _ all her attention would be on the large dish of food.

"That's because it  _ is _ ," Aneela said, smirking with utmost confidence, "Otherwise I wouldn't be about to unveil my first high class restaurant."

"Well, if it's a success I better get a raise," Brynn said, as she was plated high with vegetables, fish, prawns, and silky rice.

"Well, you _ do _ get preferential bias because you're my favorite employee," then Aneela grinned sneakily, "But I've got a nice list of waitstaff trainers to fix that selective disobedience issue you have. Some good training would make you... far more  _ obedient. _ "

Brynn felt her cheeks flush bright crimson. Aneela was a powerful woman...  _ and  _ she called out her kinks. Yikes. Dutch belted out a guffaw, and nearly got food all over herself. "I didn't know you were into being  _ dominated _ by powerful women! You know, if you had told me… we could’ve had  _ far _ more fun in the bedroom."

"Oh dear sister, it was too obvious," Aneela decided to end the teasing anyway, Brynn didn't deserve it  _ too much _ .

"Don't pick on her too much, Aneela. You had quite an interesting phase too, you know," Yalena chipped in.

"Oh yes! Do tell,  _ Neely _ ! Since you  _ did _ call out my girlfriend and all," Dutch said enthusiastically, before whispering something… less than savory in Bryan's ear. The young  maître d'hôtel flushed anew.

"Well I don't know about  _ now _ , but when she was in college she was quite into experimentation. All sorts of silk scarves, massage oils,  _ feathers _ . She even had leather—" Aneela, face bright red with embarrassment, pressed a finger roughly against her mother's mouth.

"Shhh!  _ Please _ , not at the dinner table!" She pleaded, while Dutch cackled like an evil witch, and Brynn covered her mouth, cheeks still burning. " _ How _ do you even know about that?"

"We had a joint Credit Card account Dear, I saw  _ all _ your purchases," this revelation elicited a mortified expression on Aneela's face.

" _ Uggghhhhnnnnnnnnn, _ " she groaned into the table. This conversation  _ couldn't  _ get worse.

" _ But, _ we should have an  _ equal _ distribution of stories, as you know," she glanced at Dutch, who's face morphed from confusion to sudden terror, "Dutch! Kind of you to volunteer."

" _ Noooooooooooooooooooo _ !" She cried dramatically, as her brain short circuited.

"Why, I remember when Dutch here was younger, going into the Police Academy, she had a crush on her instructor. She was practically twice the age of at that point in time!" Yalena reminisced happily. She enjoyed teasing her daughters. Maybe a little  _ too _ much. But now they were thoroughly teased, and their night could continue.

"Okay, we surrender! Just  _ no  _ more stories.  _ Please _ ?" Dutch begged.

"Okay Dear, I'll stop...for now. You've had enough," Yalena kindly acquiesced, "Besides, Aneela cooked us a  _ lovely _ dinner."

"Seriously, it looks wonderful," Dutch said, giving her twin a warm smile, and Aneela's heart fluttered at the compliment. It had taken a lot of work—and a lot of therapy—but they'd managed to become a part of a wonderful family, teasing aside.

"Dutch is right, Aneela. This is amazing. Be it the truth, you have never half-assed anything." Brynn's compliment made her heart leap. They were  _ definitely  _ worth it. Teasing included.

"I ought to have a reputation of never  _ half-assing _ anything. I'll be running a restaurant soon, serving the elite of New York. Even Andrew Cuomo has a reservation set for opening night! And Delle Seyah Kendry, who we need to greatly impress." Aneela was a jumble of emotions at the moment. Both excited for  _ actually _ getting her restaurant running, but terrified of the uncontrollable facts.

"She's a terrible critic. Cynical and cold. Why even critique something if  _ nothing _ pleases you, and only fuels anger?" Yalena spat, and she wasn't  _ wrong _ . She's barely given any decent reviews in her entire career. It brought into question the reason she has such a career if it does not bring her happiness.

"I know," Aneela replied calmly, appearing apathetic and having little worry, "I reserve my judgement until opening night. To give her the raw truth of my restaurant. I will not  _ bend over  _ and grovel to gain a decent review."

"And nobody expects you to. We have faith in your abilities to provide a fantastic service,  _ Neely _ ," Dutch waved a hand over the plate of food before her.

"Thank you," she spoke with a gentle smile, ignoring the cold hand squeezing her heart. The looming sense of  _ doom _ . How dramatic! "How is it? I confess it's been some time since I've cooked paella, but it appears to have turned out well."

"It tastes  _ fantastic _ !" Brynn exclaimed as she cut another piece of cod with her fork. It effortlessly fell apart, and was extremely juicy.

"The vegetables were cooked perfectly. Enough to soften, but not to lose their entire structure," Yalena answered, as she ate a slice of red pepper and some onion.

Aneela set her own plate and began eating as well. Slicing her vegetables, fish, and prawns into bite sized, delicious pieces. "It's been many months since I've indulged in seafood."

"You should cook more next time. I'll even help," Dutch said with a grin.

"Perhaps, if your cooking skill has improved beyond burning  _ Ramen _ in a microwave," Aneela chuckled.

"Did Brynn tell you that!" She glared suspiciously at her partner, who glanced away sheepishly.

"No, you accidentally called me once while  _ extraordinarily  _ drunk, and ranted about how you had no idea how to cook, and that you had called me for advice to cook a fancy meal for a date night with Brynn," Aneela laughed as Brynn flushed.

"Oh man, my memories a bit… ah,  _ hazy _ ," Dutch tried her best to remember the conversation, but the more she tried to grip it, the more it fell through her fingers. Their dinner date however, was a different story. She recalled  _ every  _ detail about that. Brynn's neckline on that  _ beautiful  _ emerald dress. The golden glow of candle flames in her partner's eyes. The taste of wine on her lips.

"That was a few months ago," Brynn said, "I remember coming back to the apartment… it was quite wonderful.”

“It was,” Dutch reminisced fondly. She’d really have to do that again, it had made Brynn’s eyes sparkle in delight.

“ _ You know _ , it's been a while since you've romanced me, Dutch. Maybe  _ I'll  _ do it this time," Brynn spoke in a low, husky tone.

"Sounds good to me," she said, her voice pitched up slightly as she became flustered. Aneela and Yalena wore pleased grins.

v.

Dutch, D’avin, and Johnny were currently a little more than tipsy at  _ the Royale _ , as per usual. The trio held a small table in the comfy corner nook of the place, and enjoyed the live show. A woman in  _ tight  _ pants—Dutch noticed this in particular—had taken stage to sing punk rock songs and take shots. Perhaps it was predictable, even a little cliché, but  _ damn _ was it fun.

She had positioned her chair to lean against the wall, front legs raised as she drank her beer. How many had she drank now? Combined with a mixer or two? Well, being drunk was meant to  _ forget _ about all of that, anyway.

Her phone pulsated in her pocket, alerting her to a phone call, and she checked the caller ID. Aneela, calling her at nine at night on a Wednesday? Odd. Not inconceivable though. She answered quickly, “Aneela?”

“Ah! Dutch, I’m glad you picked up,” Aneela replied, and Dutch could hear some fumbling in the background.

“Yeah, no problem. Something on your mind?” she asked, then frowned. “Sorry, it’s a bit loud here, let me step out real quick.”

“Of course,” was her curt reply, as always.

“Okay, what did you call me about?” she asked, keeping her tone light. While she had been interrupted, it had inevitably saved her from another round, and blackout drunkenness.

“Well, a few of my security personnel… were suddenly unavailable, on short notice no less,” Aneela provided quick context, and the pieces began to fit into place, “And I have two free positions...”

“And you want D’av and Johnny,” Dutch finished.

“Yes,” she drawled oddly, as if she weren’t entirely sure herself.

“Well, I can certainly ask them,” Dutch offered, and thought about it. She’d gotten a reserved table with their mother for opening night, so it wasn’t as if she could provide her own services. But they were formidable substitutes any day, even if a  _ little _ immature.

“Tell them I already have monetary compensation drawn up.  _ Also _ , under the table,” and she could almost hear Aneela smirking as she said it.

“Ah, that’ll certainly entice them. I’ll message you later, alright?” Dutch asked, knowing it would be fine. She took in the cool nighttime air happily. While  _ the Royale _ was like a second home to her, a quick breather would do her good.  _ Maybe a plate of nachos too _ , she thought, as she predicted a hangover just over the horizon. But eating bar food while drunk was one of life’s few pleasures.

“Thank you, Dutch. I owe you one,” Aneela said, before hanging up to get back to whatever business she’d been at beforehand. Dutch took a moment to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere outside the establishment. While inside had contained a high intensity energy, out here was a tranquil energy. The thump of music was muffled, the sound of crickets filling the air, and chilly air felt wonderful to breathe. 

Soon after she went inside and broke the news to her boys. They were sceptical at first, but once told it was under the table, they agreed enthusiastically.  _ Of course Aneela knew how to gain their confidence _ , Dutch thought as she ordered a plate of spicy nachos. It came with mounds of sour cream, salsa, melted cheese, jalapeños, and diced peppers— _ God _ was it amazing!

Quickly carrying the tray of nachos, she slapped away the prying hands of D’avin and Johnny, “Go buy your own!”

vi.

Opening night; a dark dreadful sensation crawled up Aneela's spine. It was early in the morning, but not early enough to stand around doing nothing. Work was to be done! Preparations completed before the doors even  _ opened _ .

Sharply at six o'clock that afternoon the doors to  _ Kin Rit  _ opened. Reservations were checked and people were seated by Brynn's waitstaff. They performed flawlessly, setting each table with the correct reserved peoples, as well as the right amounts of silverware and menus. The room was suddenly filled with a warm ambience of bustling. Less prearranged and calculated; spontaneous and lively. Before now, the empty building had been cold and artificial. Now with the human element added, a sense of energy and  _ being _ took over.

Brynn couldn’t seem to shake the smile that graced her lips. But there was a sudden mystifying presence, and had no illusions as to what it was. Or, more accurately,  _ who _ . She saw Delle Seyah Kendry herself outside, and had gotten into a bit of an argument with one of the valets. Although more so yelling at him to touch nothing but the seat, steering wheel, and pedals, or she’d personally cut his balls off and feed it to him. Brynn blanched at that. And that was just the  _ valet _ , so who knows what she’d do to Brynn!

She rushed over to the doorway, and gave a nervous smile to the woman in question. Her stare was almost debilitating. “Well?” she said with an immaculate eyebrow raised, “Are you going to take me to my table,  _ Darling _ ?”

_ Right, I’m just staring _ , she thought dumbly, before flushing at the pet name, and stumbling out an “O-Of course, right this way!”

_ At least she hasn’t killed me yet _ , she thought triumphantly! She even pulled out the chair for the Critic, and hoped it wouldn’t be seen as some sort of attempt to appease her. Even if it technically  _ was _ … well, she didn’t want to appear too brazen about it.

“Here’s a menu. The special tonight is Gravlax—a marinated and smoked salmon. For dessert we have a rømmegrøt—a cream pudding. We also have efo riro prepared by the head chef tonight,” Brynn handed her the menu, and she began to browse it.

“Thank you,” she said curtly in reply. Delle crossed her legs and hummed as she looked through the provided material. There was only so much they could provide, but it seemed to be a fairly well designed fusion. Norwegian and Nigerian food? Who would’ve thought! The creativity behind the idea was well planned, and Delle hoped the food would be equally creative. There was plenty of room to be inventive.

Not only was the restaurant's presentation clean and elegant, but their provided options were also well crafted. The smoked salmon looked mighty delicious indeed, she wanted a decent range of foods and flavors to make an informed decision on  _ Kin Rit _ . She wondered if she would get the chance to meet the owner of the establishment.

Said owner was currently with her family—Yalena and Dutch—and were chatting about the opening night.

“Dear, what would you recommend we try?” Yalena asked, using a hand to motion to the menu, and gave her daughter an easy smile.

“Well, we have the gravlax—as well as efo riro—as a special tonight for a reason. I think you’d enjoy those, as well as the rømmegrøt for dessert. But for an appetizer I’d recommend the akara cakes,” Aneela rattled off easily, as she knew the entire menu by heart.

“You know, I think I’ll go for the same. Trust the chef's judgement and all, considering you did build the  _ entire _ menu yourself,” Dutch offered with a smirk.

“Well, everything has to be  _ perfect _ , otherwise that Critic will burn down the entire establishment,” Aneela sighed, but steeled herself, “ ...You know, I think I might speak to her.”

“That doesn’t—” Yalena started.

“Sounds great—” Dutch  _ also _ started.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Dear,” Yalena re-started, “She may see it as you trying to influence her decision to gain a favorable review.”

“I don’t think she would mind too much…  _ influence _ ,” Aneela retorted with a self-satisfied grin.

“I did  _ not _ need to hear that,” Dutch grumbled, but continued with her previous point, “ _ Anyway _ … perhaps just sharing genuine truths and a good conversation with her may help you score points without you attempting to persuade her one direction or the other.”

“Both are valid points. I don’t want to manipulate her at all. I have a feeling she’d see right through it,” Aneela conceded. “I think I’ll talk to her… although I do admit I am oddly nervous?”

“Got the hots for her?” Dutch asked saucily.

“ _ Yes _ ,” she deadpanned, “I’m not nervous because my reputation hinges on a good review from a  _ Cobra _ . I’m nervous because I’m head-over-heels for a  _ Pretty Girl _ .”

Across the room—as it was split in half by a large separator, which was intricately painted—sat said  _ Cobra _ . Delle Seyah Kendry wouldn’t be anything else. Her bite was  _ viscous _ after all. One chair was free, due to the minimum being a table occupancy of two. A woman now sat across her, as she read over the menu for perhaps the third time. The service was a little slow. An eyebrow shot up as she took in the woman's features. Long dark hair tied into an elaborate braid, a red, velvety dress, and a curious expression. What  _ was _ that? It appeared to be some mixture of interest, inquiry, and smugness. Delle did  _ not _ like her.

Aneela herself took in Delle’s form. A cocked eyebrow and irritated expression was overtly spread across her face. She wore a rich, dark black dress which helped bring attention to her eyes. Big and brown, they sparkled in the soft light of the restaurant. Aneela’s grin became more self-satisfied, and if made the Critic’s eye twitch in pure indignation.

“May I  _ help  _ you?” Delle asked with more than a touch of annoyance. Who did this stranger think she was?! “I am  _ not  _ some masterpiece dangling above a hearth.” Aneela thought she  _ was _ .

“ _ You know _ ,” she intoned lavishly, her smile never wavering, “I think you can.”

“Well?  _ What _ .  _ Do _ .  _ You _ .  _ Want _ ?” She said in a sharp tone, as she emphasized every word. Don’t let it be said Delle had a long fuse. Yet found this woman… charming? Almost… maybe? She couldn’t seem to categorize it. She was both entranced by her, and infuriated with her. She would  _ not  _ show the enchanted side of that equation. She would not be  _ disheveled  _ so easily!

“What do you think?” Aneela asked her, expression softening a bit.

“ _ About _ ?” she asked incredulously in return for such an ambiguous question.

“ _ Kin Rit, _ of course,” she readily answered.

“ _ What do I think _ ? You must be someone high up here,” she bemoaned, knowing they’d try to sway her in their favor. Sending an attractive woman no doubt! How devious!

“Well, being  _ Aneela Kin Rit _ does make me the  _ highest up _ , here,” she answered.

“ _ Of course _ , perhaps I should be  _ surprised _ ,” She said sarcastically, and now recognised her. There had been ample information about the elusive owner of  _ Kin Rit _ . A few photoshoots; news articles; wikipedia pages; her history on the  _ Kin Rit  _ webpage; the whole nine yards. “Trying to influence my  **opinion** will just make me want to drag you further through the mud!” she said, feeling her voice overcome with fury for only a moment, before she huffed a deep breath, and relaxed.

“ _ Have _ I attempted to influence you?” she asked, her face shifting into curiosity.

“Well, no—”

“I want your honest opinion of  _ Kin Rit _ ,” she cut in quickly. This was her moment to explain herself, and she wasn’t going to waste it. “Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing appeasing. Just pure truth.”

“Well,” she said simply.  _ This is an equally interesting motive _ , she reasoned. Her anger was somewhat quelled for the moment. Perhaps this conversation would be more interesting than she expected. Too many owners and head chefs have attempted to influence her, and they’ve all ended the same way. Reputation burned to a crisp. Some indignation stayed behind—ego was the cause, no doubt—but she kept her voice calm. “I think I can give it. But first I’d like to actually try your food!”

“Of course,” Aneela sat straight and glanced down at the menu in the Critic’s hands, “What’ll you be having, tonight?”

“I am curious about  _ Kin Rit’s _ take on Gravlax,” Delle said, “I’ve also gotten an order of the akara. For my main I’d like to try the efo riro soup and shinkafa. I’ll admit I’ve never tried rømmegrøt, although I’d certainly like to.”

“Well, rømmegrøt is for special occasions—usually  _ Christmas _ , an expecting mother, or a wedding—but opening night is quite special to me, so I included it as a special,” Aneela admitted, “Besides, it’s nourishing, soothing, and brings out this euphoric feeling. It's quite special. Here it’s more a dessert, but traditionally it was far more savory, served with cured meats.”

“It sounds wonderful,” she responded. Her curiosity was starting to get to her, “Why did you open  _ Kin Rit _ , anyhow? What was your motivating factor?”

“To serve as a memory. A reminder. Not only as a physical representation of my passion for cooking, and traditional meals… but for my father too,” Aneela paused for a moment, glancing down at the table, and it wasn’t missed by Delle, “He wasn’t a perfect man, of course. Far from it, but he loved, regaled us with stories as children, and showed us the importance of memory. And running a restaurant—cooking in general—has always been my ambition. So, seeing it finally coalesce has been a dream come true. And having my family work with me—support me—has always been wonderful.”

Before Delle could respond, the waiter—this time not Brynn—came out with her plate of food. “O-Oh! Ms. Kin Rit, I didn’t k-know you’d be over here. When your meal is ready would you like it brought over here instead of C-4?”

“Yes please, Mr. Morris,” she nodded. One he’d walked off, she turned back to Delle, “Weej Morris. He’s one of the best in my waitstaff, next to Brynn of course.”

“Ah yes, you do employ  _ many _ … beautiful women,” she thought back to her previous waitress, “Was it Brynn, by chance, who escorted me to my seat earlier this evening?”

“Why, yes, It was,” Aneela said, “My waitstaff  _ do _ wear name tags.”

“Well I can’t be expected to remember  _ every _ person I come across, now can I?” Delle grinned, as she began cutting into her meal.

“Ah, our specials tonight are meticulously planned, I do hope they don’t disappoint,” Aneela spoke, a twinge of humor in her voice.

“Well, they are  _ special _ for a reason, or at least I hope they are.”

The akara cakes were supple and crispy, and she hummed in satisfaction as she ate them. They were still steamy and warm throughout it, and she finished them quickly. It had been topped with a tiny, yet spicy pepper, which she enjoyed as well. Aneela studied her expression thoroughly as she ate them, and received her own main course.

Next was the gravlax, tuwo shinkafa rice balls, and efo riro soup. The gravlax was tangy with subtle sweet notes from the wood used to smoke it, and it brought out the fresh taste of salmon in each bite. The slices melted in her mouth, as she ate them, and enjoyed the heightened flavor. It had been heaven.

Finally, for the main course, was the efo riro soup and tuwo shinkafa rice balls. They matched together well; soft, white rice paired deliciously with the hearty seafood and vegetable soup. It had an intense, rich flavor and heat which was pleasurable on her tongue.

She took a sip of her wine—a rich red wine; aged five years—and swished in her wine glass. It was not exorbitantly expensive, but then again Delle doubted she would get the chance to taste Italian crafted, 50-year-old wine for $22,000 ever again— _ Gods _ , it had beautiful cedar notes. This wine was soft but had well pronounced flavors: a gentle fruitiness and a hint of vanilla.

The distinct flavors of her meal and the wine paired wonderfully together. While her meal brought savory delight, the wine paired a sweeter counterbalance. But next was her dessert! Rømmegrøt, a delicious cream pudding she was dying to try. Aneela had made it sound blissful indeed.

She scooped some with a spoon, with a heavy helping of toppings, and tasted. There was a rich creamy base, melted butter, and a lot of cinnamon sugar and nutmeg. But not nearly as sweet as she had first expected. Delle now understood why Aneela had called it nourishing. It was luscious and smooth, and each spice hit just the right notes, and it was immediately clear that it was a comfort food. It was meant to be shared; to provide sustenance and warmth.

“How was it?” Aneela asked in an almost sultry tone, batting her eyelashes, and Delle couldn’t do anything but look at her shimmering,  _ chartreuse  _ eyes. Gods they were hypnotizing! She swallowed thickly as her mind rebooted and she was able to once more think clearly.

“It was—” she paused a moment to take a sip of her wine, “—It was good.”

“ _ It was good _ ?” she repeated in a teasing, yet questioning tone, “Give me a little something more to go on here, Miss Critic. I expect more than three words!”

“Well I…” Delle frowned, somehow at a loss for words, “It’s hard to describe. There’s  _ so much _ going on here. Good, I mean. It’s good. Delicious! Many different notes and flavors, all coming together to form a wonderful, cohesive experience. Nothing conflicted too much, and made for a great fusion experience. Both styles were hearty and strong, and felt wonderfly nourishing. I want to eat here again, and to try some other meals. I want to try your version of egusi soup.”

“I’m happy you enjoyed it. I do hope your experience here was good, I’d  _ hate _ to have an unsatisfied customer,” Aneela smiled, as she rested her chin on the crook of her hand.

“Oh I’m quite _ satisfied _ ,” Delle said, with a genuine smile across her face, now that her fluster died down.

“Well, I’d love to entertain you again. Perhaps I can have you over here for dinner again, just us,” Aneela renewed her grin, keeping it playful, but not manipulative, “And I’m _ not _ looking to manipulate your review. I’m much more fond of your company, as long as you don’t completely  _ destroy _ my reputation.”

“ _ No _ , you’ve definitely earned a fair and honest review by me,” Delle sighed, she still needed to be critical about this place, but she figured that she’d be doing a  _ favor _ for this young entrepreneur here. Besides, she enjoyed the woman’s company too. “ …And yes, I think I would like to join you again. This evening has been beyond pleasant. You provide good company, Ms. Kin Rit.”

“I’m relieved, I’d hate to be obnoxious. But please, call me Aneela,” she endowed the Critic with a private smile, “As it is what my fair friends call me.”

“Well then,  _ Aneela _ , I’ll be seeing you soon,” This woman was going to be the death of her. She knew it.

“You will,” she said confidently, and handed the Critic her business card. On the empty backside, there was a phone number written. “This is my personal number. You may use it as long as you don’t distribute it elsewhere.”

“It’ll remain purely confidential,” Delle said seriously. She didn’t want anyone targeting Aneela. Not only would it cause her undeserved misery, but it would show poor character and judgement on her part. “As well as any subsequent…  _ meetings _ .”

“Good,” Aneela smirked, “Would next Thursday be a convenient time for you?”

“Yes,” Delle said, “I’m free at 7pm, I can be here.”

“Then I’ll see you around,  _ Kendry _ ,” Aneela bit her lip, and Delle swore—she  _ swore _ —that the woman gave her the closest thing to bedroom eyes that was physically possible. God, that was too much! “Your next meal here will be quite something to remember, I’m sure of it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,  _ Ms. Kin Rit _ .”

vii.

Their date night arrived soon—not sooner than expected, time was  _ time  _ after all, there was only so much you could do with it—and Aneela felt flustered. Dutch had volunteered to help her this afternoon. She needed a dress to make Delle Seyah Kendry’s mouth fall  _ wide _ open.

“Maybe this?” Dutch asked, holding up a flowing red dress with a deep v-neck, “It’ll knock her socks off.”

Aneela hummed neutrally, and took the dress from Dutch’s grasp to look over it. It was short enough to show off her legs, but long enough to be tasteful and frame the painting so to speak. “What else do we have?”

“Don’t you know what’s in your own closet?” Dutch asked, irked.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Aneela sighed, “Help me pick something charming. Something flattering that’ll get her  _ excited _ .”

“Well, that won’t be hard, seeing as your closet is hardly  _ conservative _ ,” Dutch teased.

“Why be conservative and hide myself? I’d much rather have Kendry nervous and…  _ passionate _ ,” Aneela laughed, “Besides, I’m no good  _ Christian _ .”

“That much is obvious,” Dutch laughed in reciprocation, “What about  _ this _ ? This ought to blow her panties straight to Lake Tahoe!”

It was a cloudy olive skirt, which brought out the color in her eyes, and provided a sharp accent for her lithe frame. Accentuating her curves, and Dutch knew the second she saw it that it was going to make Delle Seyah Kendry suffer fatal cardiac arrest. Next was a button up shirt, the shade of sterling silver, and a short, classy jacket which hugged her shoulders.

And while they were twins, their dress styles were often quite different, and better matched their own differing personalities. Aneela pulled off classy, dazzling dresses. She belonged in them, and was extraordinarily confident in herself. Dutch was much the same way, and while she could  _ easily _ rock a dress, she found herself more drawn to accentuating jackets, and tight pants.  _ Especially _ the pants, since they would make Brynn’s nose spontaneously bleed. Besides, high mobility made it easy to  _ kick ass _ . While they were both able to defend themselves, Dutch had  _ the ability to kick ass _ on her resumé. Chef’s usually don’t do the ass-kicking, oddly enough.

“How  _ crude _ ,” Aneela rolled her eyes, “But I believe the criteria of “knock her socks off” will be sufficiently met with this!”

“As long as your  _ gorgeous _ looks don’t kill her before said socks can be knocked off,” Dutch responded cheekily.

“Are you complimenting  _ my _ good looks?” she asked—with one signature, sharp eyebrow raised—and a mischievous smirk tugged at her lips.

“Well, you look fine, but _ I  _ certainly got the superior set of genes,” Dutch replied cheekily.

Aneela burst out laughing and covered her mouth when she snorted, “ _ Do not _ tell her I made that sound!”

“ _ Tell _ her, you say?” She groaned at Dutch’s response, “I think I can do that.”

“I swear to god—”

“Oh  _ relax _ , Neely,” Dutch laughed at her twin’s expense, “You know, I was surprised you asked her on a date. You were the one waxing on about how it wasn’t in the cards for you now. That you wanted to have some semblance of financial security before you dated.”

“Honestly?” she sighed, “I don’t know  _ what _ came over me. We both became… swept up in the current. Everything just seemed to happen naturally. I even gave her my number, Dutch!”

“My, my! You really _ ar _ e head over heels for her, aren’t you?” Dutch questioned, but held a self-satisfied, almost radiant grin. Light and teasing, but happy Aneela may have found someone. She deserved to love, and to  _ be  _ loved. “You know I’m happy for you, right? To see you put your energy into something  _ other _ than your restaurant? I’m not saying that working hard to achieve your dreams is a bad thing, but that sort of fixation isn’t the most healthy. It’s good to be sociable and get out. Be with people. Find love.”

“I know,” She acquiesced. It had been a breath of fresh air to simply do something on a whim. To sit down with someone she barely knew, and have a simple conversation. Get a  _ date, _ even! She hadn’t realized how taxing the last year had been on her. “I’m driven, you know that. I guess… I was  _ too _ driven. This time.” 

“You did good, though,” Dutch placed a hand on her shoulder, “Do you know how  _ amazing _ opening night was?”

“Yeah,” she hesitantly smiled. Her success finally began to sink in. She grabbed Dutch, and hugged her tightly, “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, Neely.”

viii.

Thursday night rolled around quickly, and Aneela worked arduously on every detail of her dinner date. The restaurant was dim, with a small coupling of candles in the middle of their table. It was  _ beautiful _ , and she hoped it would please Delle.

It was nearly seven now, and she expected Delle to make her appearance soon. Aneela glances at the time almost compulsively, waiting for either a message, her to arrive, or for her  _ not _ to arrive. She isn’t sure which is the most likely.

Her fears were instantly quelled when there was a knock on the back door, and she opened it to reveal Delle. She wore a pair of black slacks and a sharp, navy button up shirt.  _ Business casual _ , Aneela notes, as her tongue feels thick in her mouth,  _ God save me _ ! “I’m glad you could make it!” Aneela says, her voice full of warm tones, as she takes the Critic’s hand in her own. She leads them to their romantic spot, and she pulls out the chair for Delle.

“Me too,” She murmurs with a smile. She looks over the Chef and sucks in a sharp breath. “You look like a dream, Darling.”

Aneela feels heat tug at her cheeks from the Critics comment, and responds in kind, “Thank you, truly. I’d be remiss if I…  _ neglected  _ to mention  _ you _ as well. I— Er— You look stunning. This evening.”

“ _ Only _ this evening?” Delle teases lightly, as she hooks her arm around Aneela’s own. She happily accepted the Critic’s advances.

“You know what I mean,” Aneela smiles in an adorable, unintentional way, “While I held your gaze, it took a moment for my mind to catch up with my mouth.”

“Of course,” Delle accepts, as they went into the establishment.

“Oh, and thank you for using the back door. I assumed discretion before you release your review would be mutually beneficial,” Aneela said respectfully. She didn’t want to damage her reputation nor Delle’s.

“Of course,” She replied, “I completely understand, considering our situation is quite…  _ precarious _ .”

“Yes, but you’re worth the risk,” Aneela flushed slightly, “But I’m glad you’ve come on this date with me. We’re going to have some fun!”

Delle swallowed at the word fun and wondered what she could possibly mean. Aneela saw her look of confusion, and gave her a terrifying grin. “What d—”

“Well, we’re going to  _ make _ dinner, of course.”

“ _ Make _ ?” Delle parroted incredulously.

“Yes,  _ make _ ! We’re going to cook dinner  _ together _ , Miss Critic!” Aneela stood abruptly from the table, and the illusion broke. From a small cart, she pulled two big aprons, and walked into the dark. With a flip of the industrial powerswitch, the entire kitchen was bathed in bright light, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust.

“Oh _ Lord _ ,” she almost whimpered, if not for ego.  _ I have no idea how to cook _ , she screamed mentally!

“ _ I’m _ going to teach you,” she boasted, looped the apron around her neck, and pressed herself against the Critic as she tied the knot behind her. Delle’s stricken look of pure terror told her everything. “I’d rather you not soil your clothes tonight.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” she said sarcastically, before Aneela clumsily set a Chefs hat atop her head. It sagged to the left, and eventually fell into her awaiting arms. “Yeah… I’m not going to wear this…  _ thing _ ,” she pinched the hat between two fingers, and waved it for dramatic effect.

“Suit yourself,” Aneela shrugged, and held the door open for her. 

“What are we going to make anyhow?” Delle asked, as she looked around the sparkling kitchen. It wasn’t terribly warm, and wouldn’t be under their circumstances, but running at full capacity to serve hundreds of people it would melt steel.

“Ah, I see you’ve accepted your fate!” Aneela wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and whispered, “We’re going to make couscous and a vegetable stew, as well as some steaks, and for dessert, we’re going to make chakery!”

“That sounds… time consuming,” Delle admitted, but was curious nonetheless. The dishes Aneela had selected sounded simply divine!

“Well, I figured you may enjoy cooking. If not for the art, at least an activity with myself,” Aneela slid her arms off the Critic, and they walked further into the kitchen. “Besides,  _ I’m  _ not going to do all the work here!”

“Of course not,” she drawled sarcastically, before—with a reluctant, dragging sigh—resigned to her fate.  _ Cooking _ , she thought grimly,  _ this isn’t going to turn out well at all _ . “Well, let’s get to it! I’m half-starved already!”

“Alright then!” Aneela walked them over to the long work station and began selecting everything they’d need for their soup. She set down an onion, a red pepper, a leek, half a dozen carrots, a few potatoes, a thick wedge of pumpkin, a zucchini, and then pouches of lentils, broad beans, and chickpeas. Finally, a bunch of spices in glass jars with tiny labels—saffron, sea salt, and black pepper. “This is what we’re working with for the stew.  _ And _ , you’re gonna learn how to cut them!”

“ _ Okay _ ,” Delle said hesitantly, and took the razor sharp knife from Aneela’s hand. It was made from high quality steel, and properly weighted to easily allow chopping, dicing, and slicing.

“ _ Please _ , don’t cut off your fingers though, they wouldn’t make a good addition to the stew, I can assure you,” Aneela took Delle’s hand—which also held the knife—and worked the motions with her, “Cut them like this. Nothing too small, we want good structure for the stew.”

“Thank you,” Delle could feel the heat radiating off her, and she tugged against her collar to let some out, “I think I understand.”

“And take it slow, these knives are high quality and  _ very _ sharp,” Aneela smiled, and walked over to the fridge, “I’ll get these steaks marinating and get the fruit for the chakery out so we can get those cut up too.”

The steaks were tossed into zip-lock bags and left to marinate in the fridge for the next hour, while they prepared the stew and chakery. Aneela walked over to the cutting board, where each set of vegetables were roughly chopped into decent sizes. They weren’t nearly as uniform as Aneela would make them, but she’s had years of professional training and work, and Delle had  _ far _ less. She seldom prepares her own food—electing to let her personal chefs prepare them at her estate—and she usually didn’t find solace or enjoyment in the process of cooking. It was a laborious  _ task _ , not something she would usually find entertaining, especially considering the process never came naturally to her. But here, with Aneela… well, she had planned on simply humoring her through this, but even so she found the evening to be pleasing. Not  _ only _ being the Chef’s presence, but also cooking in  _ this _ atmosphere seemed not to feel so burdensome and time consuming.

Not only that, but this type of participation was nothing like she was used to. There had been standards to uphold, people to impress, the whole  _ tired _ routine. Here, she didn’t need to know what she was doing. Aneela was there to guide her, to make her feel welcomed and included. She wasn’t critiquing her food, no, they were making it together. The end product would be because of both of their work. It was an intimate experience of the likes she had never felt. 

She put her mind to focusing on cutting the vegetables. Slicing the onion into delicious, bite size morsels, that would be caramelized and stewed to absolute perfection. Dicing up the red pepper to get a good char upon them. Peeling and chopping the potatoes into eighths, where they would be cooked to tender delight. Slicing the carrots into thin disks to  _ also _ be caramelized. The zucchini was peeled—leaving only a hint of skin down its sides—before being similarly cut into disks and cooked with the rest of the vegetables. The leeks and pumpkins were also cut down to size.

Aneela took out her large pot, and scooped the onions and red peppers in with a hot splash of olive oil. They cooked for a couple minutes before the rest of the vegetables were added. Aneela measured out a liter of fresh, clean water and added it to the vegetables about ten minutes later. She dropped in the lentils and saffron and let it rise to a boil, before reducing. There it cooked for thirty minutes, before they’d add the chickpeas and let cook until everything had the right texture.

“It smells wonderful,” Delle commented with a smile, “Thanks for letting me do this with you, I’ve… I’ve actually had a lot of fun tonight. It was spontaneous and random… completely out of my comfort zone yes, but I’d love to do this again.”

“As would I,” Aneela responded, and kissed the Critic’s cheek softly, “Would you like to help me prepare the couscous? We’ll be using it for both the stew and the chakery.”

“Sure,” Delle looked at the bag labeled couscous, and Aneela took a few scoops out. Quickly washing them and pressing them through a fine-mesh sieve.

“The bigger couscous, here in the wider sieve, will be used for our stew, while the finer, sweet couscous would be used for the chakery,” Aneela elaborated, as she set the sweet couscous aside, and carried the bigger ones to the steamer, “We’re going to steam them for 25 minutes, and the we’ll finish up the finer ones when we make chakery.”

Delle nodded as she watched Aneela set them in the steamer and turn the dial to the large 25. It hummed as the process began. “It looks good.”

“It will  _ be _ good,” she rebutts teasingly, “Next we can cut up the pineapple, and we’ll be all set, except for plating, of course.”

“How do we go about that?” Delle asked, and Aneela showed her to the cupboard full of all assortments of dishes.

“We’ll have our couscous and stew in bowls, and the steaks on plates, and small glasses for the chakery,” Aneela responded, as she two down two of each aforementioned piece. They were shiny, porcelain dishes, but otherwise plain. The plates were no different. The glasses were as you’d expect. Smooth, curving inward and created the perfect portion size for a single serving.

Aneela went to frying up the steaks. Doing her own, and showing Delle the ropes, and then allowing her to do it herself. They weren't big, and although they were no Japanese  _ wagyu _ , they were still delicious cuts. Delicately seasoned with salt and pepper, the smell was intoxicating. Delle helped her plate the beef, and cleaned any drips of grease. She scooped the couscous into their bowls, and Aneela used a ladle to scoop in their stew. They set them on the steel cart which had a heating option to keep their food warm, and they prepared their dessert.

The cream, chopped pineapple, and sweet couscous were mixed and then put in the refrigerator to keep it cool. "I'm curious to see how it tastes," Delle revealed, since she'd never had it before.

"It's good, I think you'll like it. It has a specific, peculiar texture, but tastes wonderful," Aneela grinned as they wheeled the cart to their table, and set out their dishes. They both sat down, and set out their dishes.

They both paused to admire their work. Beautifully browned steak, that looked so tender it would dissolve in their mouths. The stew was warm and comforting, especially on a chilled night like this. Delle held out her smartphone and snapped a photo as the burden of proof for her jaunt into the realm of cooking.

"I feel…" Delle wasn't sure exactly, but had a vague sense of it, "I feel a certain pride knowing we made all this. It was  _ fun _ !  _ And _ hard work, so I'm starving!"

Aneela laughed, and once again pulled out her chair for her, "Sit and eat, then! Enjoy the hard work you've put in! Be proud knowing your first steak did not turn out as rubbery as a tire."

"Yes, I'm quite fortunate. Although I  _ did  _ burn my hand on the skillet, so I don't know where that leaves me luck-wise," Delle raised her hand, where a pink mark trailed across her hand. Aneela held it in her own, and kissed it gently. She'd made sure to keep it cool to prevent too much damage.

" _ Well _ , you still have ten fingers, so let's count our blessings," Aneela teased, as she returned to her own seat. They ate their stew slowly, savoring each bite, and the rich flavors they had. The vegetables were supple and cooked perfectly, and they both hummed in delight as they ate it.

Their steaks were also cooked well. Beautiful sear marks and a good crust had formed, and it had been cooked perfectly to medium, not over or under. It was tender and juicy, and the marinade made it even better.

Once they'd finished their main meal, Aneela fetched the two glasses of chakery. She set one by her plate, and held Delle's in her hands. Using a spoon, she scooped a portion of the creamy, yogurt mixture, pineapples, and sweet couscous, and fed it to Delle. She watched as the end of the spoon disappeared into Delle's mouth, and slowly drew it back out clean.

She let it cover her tastebuds, and moaned audibly in satisfaction. Delle had closed her eyes and focused on the taste. She could feel the odd couscous in the otherwise smooth yogurt mixture, as well as the strong pineapple flavor, a dash of vanilla, and even subtle notes of nutmeg.

" _ My _ ," Delle breathed, as she took the glass and spoon in her own hands, "That's simply  _ divine _ ."

Aneela, cheeks still flushed from Delle's  _ display _ , gave her a good natured grin, "I told you so."

"So you did," she replied in kind, as they both ate. The restaurant had turned quiet, with nothing but the sound of their spoons clattering in their dishes.

After they'd finished their meal, Aneela spoke, "We're going to have to get all this cleaned, you know."

Delle groaned, but stood anyway, "Might as well get it over with."

And they did. Thankfully, the world grants small mercies, and they loaded everything into the large dishwasher. It had a liquid hum, as the container filled with suds, water, and little bits of food.

The evening was coming to a close, but there was still time to spend together. Delle accompanied Aneela on the roof, overlooking the crowded streets and luminescent signs. Puddles shimmered with the lights of cars, signs, and traffic lights. The street's ambiance was relaxing as it was mesmerizing. They watched the scene below them together in a silent, calm presence.

Aneela took a drag of her cigarette, and perched her elbows against the wall which overlooked the street. The glowing embers were in sharp contrast to the relatively dark roof.

"I had a wonderful night, Aneela. Thank you for this, it was nice to just have fun," Delle said, and scooted a little closer.

"I agree," Aneela replied, "I spent so much time working on this place. So much time,  _ energy _ … and hope. There was so much pressure to succeed, but I always thought 'What if I try everything, and it fails anyway?' Finally, I met you. Letting go didn't seem so scary anymore."

"Opening night— _your_ opening night—was wonderful. So many restaurants were disappointments. Manipulative. Would do _anything_ for a good review. Whether it was to grovel before me, or threaten me. You were honest, so _honest_ , with me that night," Delle looked into her eyes, which reflected the bright world below, " _Kin Rit_ _will_ flourish into a beautiful experience."

Aneela cupped Delle’s cheek with a hand as her thumb gently stroked her supple skin. They stared into each other's eyes— _ watching _ —before Aneela paintakinly closed the distance between them. Delle shivered ecstatically, as she pressed herself against Aneela’s warm skin, and simultaneously cool air made for an intense temperature difference. It was electrifying, as if they were a chemical reaction. It was wonderful… until it  _ wasn’t _ .

Delle pulled back quickly, her face contorted into a grimace and she admitted “You taste like smoke.”

“Oh god!” Aneela felt a horrible burning in her cheeks and quickly turned away from the Critic, “I’m sorry, Kendry! I didn’t think—”

Delle cut her off quickly, and spoke slowly, as if she were unsure of her words, “You know that stuff… isn’t  _ good _ for your health, right?”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Aneela sighed, wiping the wetness from her eyes, “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I didn’t even  _ think _ about what I was doing.”

“I know stress and pressure can manifest in negative ways, I’ve had my fair share of battles,” Delle admitted, as she guided Aneela back around to face her, and lifted her chin up to gaze into her eyes, “But—if you’ll have me, of course—I’d like to help.”

“I don’t know if you can,” Aneela said, voice wavering slightly, “Dutch and Yalena have tried and tried.  _ I’ve _ tried.”

“I’m here to  _ support _ you, Darling,” Delle smiled, and she pulled her into a fierce hug, “You aren’t  _ coercing _ me into anything. I’ll help you through it. If you let me.”

“I—I,” Aneela wasn’t sure  _ what _ to say. To have so much love and support was overwhelming at times. “ _ Thank you _ . You don’t know how much that means to me, Kendry.”

“Here, let’s go back inside, it’s chilly out here,” Delle hooked Aneela’s arm in her own, and they went back inside, “I know you’ve faced so much, building this place, the pressure to succeed, how everyone was counting on you to get it done. You’ve had so much responsibility here. It’s had its positive effects, giving you the drive to get through  _ anything _ that comes your way. But the negative effects can’t be ignored. I care about your health, and I know it’s going to be hard, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, just as you would for me.”

“Of course,” Aneela sighed, feeling a juxtaposition of dissatisfaction and content at the same moment. "Can I get a sneak peek of that review?" Aneela asked jokingly, knowing Delle wouldn't spoil  _ anything _ .

"Oh no spoilers for you, Miss Kin Rit," Delle smirked as they returned into the building, "But I think you'll like it."

"Is it a good review?"

"I'm  _ not _ going to tell you!"

"Not even a small preview?"

" _ Nope _ !"

" _ Fine _ ," Aneela mumbled in defeat and dissatisfaction, but left it at that.

ix.

There was a buzzing at Aneela's door—no doubt she knew who it was. It had been quite a few days since their first date, and Aneela had finally worked up the courage to ask her to come over for a family dinner. There was a seat beside her that she would  _ occupy _ now; a place which had only ever been filled by Yalena, and never a romantic partner. It was nerve wracking, to say the least.

Aneela pulled open the door, and took Delle into her arms. It was an awkward hug, a large due to the bag slung across her shoulder, but a warm one nonetheless. "I'm glad you could make it," Aneela said happily.

"Me too," Delle replied with equal enthusiasm, "Although, I do admit I've never done…  _ this _ before."

" _ This _ ?" Aneela asked, looking for a more concise answer.

"Well,  _ dating _ and… meeting your friends and family. I'm  _ woefully _ inexperienced," Delle frowned, momentarily overcome with inner nervousness. Something she only wanted to show to Aneela. Being an overly nervous, bumbling simpleton in front of her family was  _ not  _ something she was going to risk. She looked over the gorgeous woman before her, and sighed contentedly in their embrace. She noticed a small patch against her skin, poking out just slightly on her shoulder, and felt a surge of pride.

"I am too, Kendry. We'll go through it  _ together _ ," Aneela held her hand, and it was cool and soft compared to her own, which must've been like furnaces at full capacity.

"You've never brought someone home to meet your family before?" Delle was  _ very _ much in the same boat, although family was quite…  _ complicated _ for her.

"No," Aneela answered, and it was true. Relationships were never easy, and always secretly intimidated her. Being good enough meant something to her, and she didn't want to be vulnerable. It was hard to emotionally contribute to a relationship, but with Delle it seemed so much easier. That the risk may just be worth it. "I haven't. I've never been any good at relationships."

"Well," Delle gave her a soft smile, "You won  _ me  _ over. That had to count for something."

"Yeah," she says in return, perhaps not yet convinced, but Delle felt a passionate sensation in her chest to keep trying.

She walks her into the dining room, and Delle uses the bottle opener to remove the cork from the wine bottle.

"Well, never let it be said Kin Rit isn't a family restaurant," Delle says to Aneela as she sees Brynn tucked up comfortably next to Dutch. Aneela laughed in reply.

"I've brought wine," Delle announces, and everyone enthusiastically cheers her on. "It's nothing fancy, of course…"

"It's  _ literally _ imported from France," Dutch points out, poking the bottle right at the exporting country.

" _ Okay _ , maybe it is more expensive than I let on," Delle admitted, but felt a warmth in her heart. " _ Anyway _ , what will we be having for dinner?"

Aneela smiled, and began to rattle off what she had planned. "We'll be having pork chops, Caesar salad, as well as peas and corn. Locally sourced stuff I picked up."

"It sounds wonderful. I'm  _ very  _ glad I don't have to cook this time, I'd rather not burn down your lovely home," Delle snarked good-naturedly.

"There's a story here, I can feel it!" Yalena exclaimed, "You better tell it!"

"I need to go finish cooking!" Aneela jumped up quickly, her face burning with embarrassment, " _ Kendry _ you tell it."

"I can't  _ believe  _ this! Aneela is sacrificing me!" Delle exclaimed dramatically, and covered her face with her arm.

"Yes, tell us," Brynn chipped in, looking for a little revenge.

“I’m going to kill you, Aneela," Delle threatened sternly.

" _ Tell us! _ " Dutch said with both excitement and authority—she hoped to squeeze the answer out of the woman they'd spent so much time cursing.

"Fine, fine!" She acquiesced, "For our first…  _ date _ , she forced me to cook with her, and it was really hard! There's a reason I'm a food  _ critic _ , not a  _ chef _ ! I can't cook!"

Yalena and Brynn laughed heartily, but Dutch sympathized, "Yeah, I burned ramen noodles in the microwave."

"Yikes," Delle responded, "I usually have my hired cook make me meals."

" _ Of course _ you do," Dutch rolled her eyes, and her voice held no malice.

"Well, I have certain standards to uphold! I prefer to spend liberally on my meals, instead of clogging my arteries with cheap, fifty cent meals," Delle rebutted quickly, crossing her arms in a defeated, grumpy fashion.

"Alright, alright, no more picking on my girlfriend!" Aneela announced, as she brought in the thick pork chops.

"I still can't believe you forced her to cook with you," Yalena commented cheekily, "Who knew you'd have her wrapped around your little finger."

"I am _ not  _ 'wrapped around her little finger'!" She replied defensively, and her ears seemed to glow from embarrassment.

"Don't worry, the teasing comes from a place of love," Aneela whispered in her ear, and served everyone their food. She then left to procure the caesar salad and vegetables.

" _ Sure _ ," she muttered sarcastically, and buried her face in her hands.

"We're sorry, Delle, we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Yalena said, rubbing Delle's shoulders.

"Yeah, we're glad you came. Hopefully you'll be able to loosen Aneela up, she's far too uptight," Dutch snarked at the chef in question.

"Don't pick on me, I'm the one who can poison your food!" Aneela shot back, with a wry grin. She served the salad and a decent helping of vegetables. Everything had been plated beautifully, and with decent portions to fill them up.

"I agree," Brynn piped up, "Aneela expects and pushes. And therefore  _ easily _ gets bent out of shape! Loosening her up will make my life  _ way  _ easier. Help me Delle, you're my only hope!"

"Well… I've been told I'm particularly good with  _ this _ hand," Delle lifted her right hand and made a hooking motion.

"Well you didn't have to say that! I do  _ not  _ want to know the  _ specifics _ of my sister's kinky sexlife!" Dutch shuddered, and instead thought of  _ Brynn _ lustfully to clear those horrendous thoughts.

"Let's eat!" Aneela saved the completely derailed conversation, and Delle nearly cried in delight.

"Thank all that's Holy!" Delle exclaimed as she cut up her pork. It was juicy and delicious, as expected. The fat was tender and melted in her mouth like candy.

"Glad you're enjoying it," Aneela smiled approvingly, and dug into her own.

_ I… I think I could get used to this _ , Delle thought,  _ they're infinitely compassionate and accepting _ .

"I-I'd like to thank everyone here," Delle started, her hands nervously holding the other, "For spending time getting to know me, and treating me, well, like a person. Even with my… less than decent reputation. Oh! That reminds me, I have a copy of the article, if you'd like to read it."

Delle pulled out the magazine from her bag, and it quickly fell into Yalena's excited hands. "Now can determine if we should kill you or not!"

"They're teasing, they're teasing,  _ nobody _ is going to kill  _ anybody _ ," Aneela quickly butted in, glancing worriedly at Delle, "They just… are a bit  _ overprotective _ ."

"This is the first good review I've done in quite some time. I had been cynical and angry, and… it became my outlet, so to speak. I know I ended many good careers, some undeserving, but Aneela's helped me recognize my grave errors," Delle said softly, and felt a terrible gnawing sensation in her gut. It was hard to admit that. She didn't want her weaknesses being broadcasted so easily, and she instinctively wanted to put up a shield. It came up partially, but Aneela took her hand and squeezed, and she couldn't bring herself to completely shut down.

"A nine out of ten," Yalena breathed.

A terrible anxiety settled on Delle's shoulders, "I-I hope that's okay. I mean, nothing's  _ perfect _ . Besides, Aneela is deserving of my  _ best _ review in my entire career. I wanted something to have decent, honest and constructive feedback."

"It's wonderful," Aneela wrapped her arms around Delle's shoulders, and her arms instinctively rose to her waist.  _ I could get used to this _ , she thought again.

Dutch and Brynn nodded approvingly, and Dutch quickly spoke up, "I can understand that."

Yalena placed a hand on her shoulder, her form exuding motherly love, and softly spoke, "Your arguments are valid, and I think you've done a wonderful job, Delle."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice wavering, and she mentally cursed herself. Hiding her weakness in front of them was becoming harder and harder, perhaps she would have to resign to the fate of sharing them aloud.  _ But for now, I'd like to enjoy dinner _ , she thought,  _ yes, that's alright _ .

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Aneela asked, already knowing that everyone would probably say  _ Yes, we  _ all _ want dessert _ !

And it was just that.

“Hell yeah, I’m ready for dessert,” Dutch asserted quickly, knowing whatever Aneela prepared was going to be absolutely divine.

“Me too,” Brynn piped up with a sly smile to accompany it.

“As am I,” Yalena replied.

“I’d love dessert,” Delle also answered, giving Aneela a suggestive grin. “What is it?”

“You’ll see in a minute!” Aneela called back as she walked into the kitchen to fetch the gorgeous, meticulously designed dish.

She came out with a large plate covered in adorable jelly cakes. They were Vietnamese styled specifically for Delle, whose eyes lit up as she saw them. They were in perfect cubes, and jiggled as she set them down on the table. They had three distinct flavor types, which recurred as a pattern throughout each cake. The first was a dark brown layer, rich with the smell of coffee. Second was an ivory, sweet coconut milk layer. Third was a gorgeous green color of sweet, floral pandan.

“I hope you like them Kendry, I’ve never actually molded anything before this so it may not be perfect,” Aneela flushed slightly at her admission.

“Wow, Neely! You really outdid yourself this time,” Dutch commented, as each cube was distributed to her family. They eagerly dug in, using spoons to carve rounds, and tasted it. Brynn hummed in agreement as she tried it herself.

“I’ll say! They’re perfect,  _ Darling _ ,” Delle commented, as she cut a portion with her spoon, which had come out as a perfect sphere. “These look gorgeous. Although not as much as you,” Delle said with a smile, and kissed Aneela’s cheek.

“I have to agree, these look adorable!” Yalena cooed before she tasted it, “And it tastes fantastic! It has a wonderful combination of flavors! What is that last flavor? It’s sweet, kind of… flowery?”

“That’s the pandan, I managed to get some from a local import shop,” Aneela supplied the anecdote readily, “Well I’m glad you all like it, it took me a while to get it the consistency just right.”

“Tonight’s been really wonderful, Aneela. Thank you for inviting me!” Delle commented, as the last of Aneela’s desserts were finished off. They were like a greedy pack of wolves! She rolled her eyes to the balcony and nodded towards it, hoping Aneela would understand her meaning.

“Of course,” Aneela smiled and took her hand.

x.

Delle accompanied Aneela to the balcony in relative privacy by drawing the shades closed. But left the door cracked. Aneela turned to Delle, and kissed her passionately. A wave of pent up emotions finally let loose, and they gladly accepted it. Delle loved the gentle, lush pressure of Aneela’s lips, and she parted her lips to deepen the kiss. Their kiss moved slowly, a perfect synchronous flow they easily fell into. She could feel the Chef’s minty gasps of deliciously cool air against her skin, and they reluctantly parted. Curse the need for oxygen!

They enjoyed the company of each other for a while, without the prying eyes of their family in the next room to tease their maudlin, romantic actions. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, and who could blame them for making up lost time?

“You know, I saw the patch on your arm,” Delle murmured, and wrapped an arm around the Chef’s waist in a loose hug.

“Yeah well… ” Aneela mumbled, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and she placed a hand over it, “What can I say? You inspired me, Kendry.”

“Do you know how proud I am of you?” Delled looked at her seriously, and Aneela could feel the weight of those words. She glanced away again, almost unable to bear the sincerity and strength Delle’s gaze provided. “I’m  _ so _ proud. To know you. To  _ love _ you. To challenge that part of yourself, and work to make yourself  _ better _ . To care for the physical body you’ve been gifted.”

“I know,” she smiled, and looked back at the Critic with eyes filled with warmth, “You make me a better person. Gave me the push I needed. Challenged me in a way nobody has. And  _ I  _ love  _ you _ for that.”

“You’ve made me a better person too, you know?” Delle admitted wholeheartedly.

“No, you’re practically perfect,” Aneela asserted, and kissed her cheek.

“ _ No _ ,” Delle replied quickly, “I was… trapped. For a long time. Emotionally, not physically. I was cold, and angry, and… apathetic. I didn’t care about the damage my words could do. Whether it was deserving or not. For the longest time something had just been…  _ off _ … with me. You helped me with that. Showed me honesty and kindness and…  _ love _ . It surprised me, and it made me realize a lot.”

“I’ve read them all,” Aneela confessed, “And I’ll admit I was worried about the reputation of my restaurant, before I really knew you. But I wasn’t going to treat you terribly just because of that. Or lie to get you into my good graces.”

“I know,” Delle said, “And that’s what helped  _ me _ so much. I looked— _ scrutinized _ —for ulterior motives. That I’d be so disappointed. I’m a bona fide  _ pessimist _ , but...Your honesty and curiosity is  _ melting _ me, Aneela!”

Aneela laughed, and scooped her up into her arms again for a hug. Despite Delle’s prickly personality and  _ sometimes _ pessimistic attitude, she was  _ soft _ . Aneela wanted to hold her for  _ hours _ . 

“You two are adorable!” Yalena exclaimed, just beyond the cracked door, and they both jumped and broke away from each other. They both looked absolutely mortified.

“Mom!” Aneela blushed as she said so— _ I sound like a moody teenager _ , she thought—and ushered Delle back inside as she followed. “Please don’t  _ spy _ on us!”

“I just wanted to see my daughter happy!  _ Surely _ you can understand,” Yalena mock pouted, and Aneela gave in with a sighed.

“Alright alright, just please no more spying like  _ that _ !” she huffed, still a little embarrassed, but hugged Yalena anyway, “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry for being grumpy.”

“It’s alright, Dear,” Yalena kissed her temple.

Delle felt a little out of place around them, but quickly found herself swept up by Yalena in a powerful, motherly hug. “ _ Thank you _ ,” Yalena said, with a radiant smile, “For being there for Aneela. To see her so…  _ happy _ . The stress isn’t eating her alive anymore. It just—it makes me happy to see  _ her _ happy.”

“I know the feeling,” Delle said abscently, as she gazed at Aneela. She was cleaning up the table, gathering the dishes, and putting them in the dishwasher. She began cleaning her cookware and soaking it with a strong cleaning solution. Within fifteen minutes, she’d finished everything for the night, and was able to sit down and enjoy her free time with Delle.

They sat together on her long, matte navy couch. Lounging comfortably, Delle tightly wrapped her arms around the Chef. Aneela wrapped her arm around her in return, and Delle rested her head against Aneela’s shoulder. There was a bubbling content in her chest—Delle happily snuggled into her significant other.

“You know, with all this  _ free  _ training I’m giving you, I think you should cook for us next time,” Aneela said, but her voice betrayed her seriousness with a humorous lining.

Delle rolled her eyes dramatically, “Maybe I will when I’ve got more than  _ one _ lesson.”

“Yeah Neely. You should know better than to throw someone inexperienced into your nice kitchen. The whole place will go up in flames!” Dutch pointed out.

“That’s why I never let  _ you _ in the kitchen, Dutch. Your cooking skills are on par with your pottery skills,” Aneela replied with heavy snark.

“Downright abominable?” Questioned Brynn, who had to cover her mouth to hide a snicker.

“A crime against humanity,” Aneela answered readily.

“Oh hush,” Yalena responded, “I support your wonderful creative outlet, Dutch.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Dutch grinned, “Finally, someone appreciates my artwork.”

“...Even if I can’t recognize what you’re making,” Yalena finished quickly, and Dutch covered her face with her hands and groaned exasperatedly.

“ _ Ugh _ , am I just going to have my magnificent artwork  _ insulted _ and  _ teased  _ all night?!” She complained, but with an over-dramatic flare. Brynn kissed Dutch’s cheek and whispered an apology through her laughs.

“Comes with the territory, Sister,” Aneela replied.

“Then how come we aren’t insulting anyone else?!” She looked around the room in an accusatory fashion.

“That can certainly be accomplished!” Yalena supplied with a dangerous smile, “Delle dear? Would you like to see Aneela’s baby pictures?”

Aneela choked on her own saliva as she rushed over to her mother, “No, do  _ not _ !”

“I would absolutely  _ love _ that!” Delle replied with a wry grin, “It serves you right, Dear, for trying to get me to cook next time!”

“ _ Hey _ !” Aneela put on a shocked face at Delle’s utter betrayal, “You wouldn’t want me to see  _ your _ embarrassing baby pictures, would you?”

“And that’s why they’re hidden away in a secret vault to never see the light of day ever again,” Delle said, “Now let me see them, I want to see Aneela as an adorable baby!”

“ _ Betrayed _ by my girlfriend!” she laid the crook of her elbow over her face and made a sound of pure anguish.

_ Yes _ , Delle thought with soothing happiness,  _ I could get used to this _ .

Yalena took out her phone, and began scrolling through her gallery. “Most of her baby pictures were taken on film and developed, so I don’t have them  _ all _ , but there are a few I can show you.”

Delle squeezed Aneela’s hand, and sat next to Yalena to see said pictures. The first was of her, Dutch, Johnny, and D’avin, all wearing make-shift costumes and weapons. A man stood in the photo too, with greying hair, and a smile. “They used to pretend they were space ranger warriors,” Yalena explained, “Fighting an evil Lady who wanted to turn everything green.”

“She’s adorable,” Delle commented softly with a slight smile. She was entranced by the photos. There was so much youthful energy, joy, and warmth. She wondered what it would have been like if she had known Aneela when she was a child herself. She glanced back at Aneela and Dutch, who were both silently, and nervously watching. “Who’s this man, here?”

“ _ Ah _ ,” Yalena said with a quiet, heavy smile. The kind you wore when you talked about the dead, “That’s Khlyen. My late husband, and their father. He was a complicated man.”

Delle nodded with a hum, not trusting the words that could come out of her mouth. What do you say to something like  _ that _ ? Delle didn’t think she had the words to express the emotion to her own satisfaction. She stumbled over her words for a moment before regaining them, “A-Any other photos you have?”

“Just one more,” Yalena said, as she brought it up. It was also of Aneela as a child, wearing a school uniform, and standing against a blue textured background. Her lips were pursed into an almost grimace as her photo was taken. “This was at the Academy, when she got her photo taken for their yearbook. She was in second form.”

“You all lived in England?” Delle asked curiously, as she examined the photo.

“Sort of,” Aneela commented while she nervously rubbed the back of her head, “Dutch and I had most of our education there at a private school. But we left to explore more options for post-graduate education. As you know I went into the culinary arts—Dutch into law enforcement.”

“Thank you for showing me these, Mrs. Kin Rit,” Delle said.

“Of course, Dear,” Yalena wrapped her into another signature hug, “Call me Yalena, it is my name after all!”

“Of course,  _ Yalena, _ ” Delle smiles and shifted away and back next to Aneela. “Thank you, Aneela. I really appreciated that.”

“Enough to reconsider showing me _ your  _ baby pictures?” Aneela asked, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, “We’ll have to go down and get them sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Aneela said, pulling Delle back into their cuddling position. She hummed in satisfaction when she felt the Critics arms hold her tightly.

“But for now, I just want to be next to you,” Delle murmured and snuggled against the Chef’s warmth. Aneela rested her cheek against the top of Delle’s hair, and they enjoyed each other’s presence for the rest of the night.

Thus ends this chronicle. The story of the career-driven and oblivious. That there was an untapped element in their lives. That they managed to discover together—finding it  _ in _ one another—and to let that element flourish. That's what the love between two connected souls will always do.


End file.
